Bad Moon Rising
by dnachemlia
Summary: Sequel to Stranger Than Fiction, written for the Pyrrhic Victory Challenge. AU. A series of strange attacks around Quantico prompts one of the team to call in an expert. Starts six months after the end of the previous story.
1. Prologue

**Bad ****Moon**** Rising**

Sequel to _Stranger__ Than__ Fiction_ (so you'll probably want to read that first)

Written for the Pyrrhic Victory Challenge

Genre: Supernatural/Horror

Rating: FR 15

Warnings: Violence, language, disturbing imagery

Characters: The team and a previously used OC (Wade) and some new OCs

Summary: AU. A series of strange attacks near Quantico prompts one of the team to call in an expert. Starts six months after the end of the previous story.

* * *

_**Don't go 'round tonight**_

_**It's bound to take your life  
**_

_**There's a bad moon on the rise**_

_~ Creedence Clearwater Revival_

_**Prologue**_

The blaring of the alarm clock pulled Tim McGee from his much needed slumber and he groaned. Another day, another chance to view some of the worst humanity had to offer. He had grown used to it over the years, but the potential was there, and it still gave him an uneasy feeling, the likes of which would probably never fade no matter how many cases he worked.

The MCRT was not currently working a case, but all of that could change, and very quickly, therefore it was imperative that he be on time to work. He pulled himself up off the bed, stretched, and stumbled into the bathroom.

Tim quickly performed his morning routine, nearly on autopilot. Routine was something he appreciated, especially since he knew what it was like to have his life turned upside down. He could barely believe it had only been a few months since the series of events that had changed his life had occurred. He had adjusted to his new reality better than he had expected, but there were still times when the fears surfaced, and he managed them the best he could.

Showered and dressed in his usual dark button down, jeans, and jacket, he decided to take one last look to ensure that he was presentable…no, _normal_. The last thing he needed was for Tony to find something amiss and mock him for it. He certainly wasn't in the mood for such things, not today.

He moved in front of the mirror and looked up at this reflection. The peace he had felt immediately vanished and what he saw in front of him suddenly made him feel as if ice water had been sent through his veins. The face he saw staring back at him was his own, but again _not_ his own. It was smiling in a way he could never manage: cruel and full of malicious intent. The worst thing, however, was not the expression on that face, but the eyes staring back at him.

They were solid, glowing white…

Tim awoke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest, as he barely managed to hold back the scream that was trying to escape his throat. He jumped to his feet and staggered to the bathroom, where he leaned over the sink, eyes closed and fighting back the nausea that was forcing its way through his system. Finally he was able to open his eyes and look up at the mirror, dreading what he might see. He let out a soft sigh of relief when he saw his own wide green eyes staring back at him, and winced when he took in the rest of his appearance: he was paler than normal, with dark circles under his eyes and his face had the pinched look of someone recently very ill.

_Six months…_

The amount of time which had passed since his life _was_ turned upside down, and he _wasn__'__t_ dealing with it, not at _all_. The memories of his abduction and imprisonment were still fresh in his mind, but those had probably been the easiest to understand, at least. It was the _other_ things that occupied his mind and troubled his dreams: the fact that his abductor had been not a person, but a _thing_: a shapeshifter, a supernatural creature that took on his appearance and personality, for God only knows what ultimate end; the fact that such things even existed; the fact that this thing had taken his place and been killed, leading his team and his family to experience and mourn his passing; the fact that he would have died alone had it not been for someone who hunted such things, who had found him in his prison and had eventually revealed to him one horrifying truth.

_There are a lot of good reasons to be afraid of the dark._

The evidence of that statement, the white-eyed image of his double that he had seen in the security videos, had haunted his dreams ever since.

While his team seemed to have accepted the truth and what had happened, _he_ couldn't, and he really wished he knew why. It wasn't a subject he felt he could approach with any of them. He had tried, initially. Tony had just made a joke, as he always did with serious topics; Abby was firmly in denial, claiming that nothing like that could ever happen again; Ziva's only response was to tell him that if he found another one of those 'things' to let her know, and she would kick its ass; Ducky and Palmer seemed more interested in the medical aspect of what had happened and worried about his physical state; and Gibbs was…well, _Gibbs_. Finally he decided it wasn't fair to his team to bring up what had to be terrible memories, so he had remained silent.

The only other person with whom he could confide had vanished. Tim had a contact for the man, known to him only as "Wade", but when he had called the number he had only found a voice mail account, as untraceable and Wade had claimed when he gave Tim the number. He had thought about calling again, many times, but he figured Wade had more pressing concerns and Tim would just have to suck up and deal with it on his own, as he had almost any other time turmoil entered his life. After all, Abby was probably right: it was unlikely something like this would ever happen to him again. He just needed to learn how to move on.

Tim checked his watch and sighed. It was just after midnight, and if he expected to function at all at work later, he needed more than an hour of sleep. He stumbled back to bed, crawled back under the covers, and closed his eyes as he tried to relax enough to fall asleep.

It was quite a long time before he succeeded.

XXX

_My dad is going to kill me…_

Danny Smythe made his way as quickly as he could towards home, hoping that he would, by some miracle, be able to sneak in undetected. He was already out way past curfew and he didn't need another reason for his old man to punish him, especially since that punishment involved things his father had learned as a drill instructor in the Corps.

He paused at the edge of the athletic field to look around. The light from the full moon illuminated the grounds of the Marine base, providing enough light for Danny to survey his surroundings. The last thing he needed was for one of the officers to catch him out at this time of night, but when he saw the area was deserted he breathed a small sigh of relief. After a few more moments of listening for signs of company he headed into the stand of trees that separated the field from the housing area where he lived.

He had gone about 20 yards when he heard a twig snap.

_Damn…busted._

He froze, waiting for the burst of light from a flashlight to hit him but the woods remained dark. He held his breath and listened but the sound did not return.

_Maybe it was just an animal. Nothing to worry about, so get going before you **do** have something to worry about._

He started off again, only to be brought to a halt a few moments later when he heard the distinct sound of leaves being crunched underfoot, followed by a low growl. Danny spun around, searching for the source of the sound, but he was alone. There was no sign of any other living creature.

_It's OK…just a dog. Someone's pet got loose. I'd hate to be them when the Provost's Office finds out._

Once again he set off towards home, traversing the last few yard of woods in peace. When he reached the tree line he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned just as a dark shape hurtled towards him. In one horrible instant he caught full sight of the creature. Before he could even draw a breath for a scream its claws reached him, violently cutting off his last terrified thoughts and sending him into the blackness.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 1

**Bad Moon Rising**

Disclaimer: y'all knolw this by now. I don't own anything.

I'm trying to finish this one for a challenge, so hoepfully it won't be too much longer before I post another chapter. Yes, I know I still have to post the last chapter of HotD. Mea culpa.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Tony stepped off the elevator and headed for his desk, ready, although not completely willing, to start his work day. His lack of enthusiasm had more to do with the early hour than the job, as well as his reason for arriving at work before dawn. His well-deserved slept had been interrupted by nightmares, an all too familiar occurrence over the past six months. He knew he'd be dragging by the end of the day as a result, never an advantageous condition while under Gibbs supervision and scrutiny.

When he entered the MCRT's bullpen, he was only slightly surprised to see one desk was already occupied by the person who had actually been present in Tony's nightmares. Images of this man lying wide-eyed and dead on the sidewalk with a bullet hole in his chest, or grey and silent in a morgue drawer had troubled Tony ever since he had _seen_ those actual images six months ago. What caused Tony to awaken, heart pounding, from his nightmares was the sudden belief that it actually _had_ been his partner who had been killed, rather than his double, and McGee's kidnapping and rescue had been the dream rather than reality.

Tony studied the younger man, who hadn't even noticed the senior agent arrive, and the concern he had felt when he first saw McGee already at his desk increased. McGee was paler than normal, with dark circles under his eyes and a pinched look to his face that suggested that he had neither slept nor eaten well in the past few days. Tony often wondered just how McGee was dealing with what had happened to him, and before him was evidence that however he had been handling those events, it wasn't working.

"Morning, McEarlyBird," Tony called with forced levity, startling the younger agent out of his state of intense concentration. "Trying to catch a few worms?"

Tim turned to glare at Tony for a brief moment, but the heat behind that glare was nowhere near his usual levels.

"I'm working, Tony." He glanced at the computer screen and his eyed widened slightly before turning back to Tony. "Why are you here so early?" He looked around the bullpen. "Did we get a call-out?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then why are you here?"

"What, you think you're the only one who can get in at the crack of dawn? Why are _you_ here so early, Probie?"

"I…had stuff I needed to do."

"Looks like you'd be better off sleeping. What's going on?"

"Nothing. And you didn't answer my question."

Tony plastered on a fake smile. "I thought I'd get in early and avoid the traffic."

Tim snorted. "And they say _I'm_ a bad liar."

"You are. 'Stuff I needed to do'? Come on, McGee—"

"Drop it, Tony."

"No, I won't." Tony lowered his voice and leaned closer, his expression now serious. "What's wrong, Tim?"

McGee studied his partner for a few moments and let out a resigned sigh. "I couldn't sleep, OK? No big deal."

"It doesn't sound like 'no big deal' to me. You look like crap, Probie."

"Not looking so great yourself, Tony," Tim muttered. He looked up at the senior agent and sighed again. "Sorry, man."

"We're kind of a mess, aren't we?" Tony asked, surprising himself. Tim chuckled weakly.

"Yeah, we are." He met Tony's gaze. "And it's my fault, too."

Tony immediately knew where McGee's train of thought was headed and gave him a gentler-than-normal headslap. "It's not your fault, Tim."

"If I had just—"

"You didn't know what you were dealing with, Probie. None of us did."

"And now we _do_ know what's out there…and the world's a hell of a lot less safe than we thought."

"Never thought it was all that safe to begin with," Tony said with a grin, and felt the weight on his shoulders lift a little when he saw a genuine, albeit weak smile on Tim's face.

"True."

"Hey, listen, we both need to kick back and relax a little, right? Tonight, my place: beer, pizza, and we'll watch a movie that will be guaranteed to put us to sleep, like maybe Kenneth Branagh's four-hour version of _Hamlet._"

"I liked that one, actually," Tim replied with a slight grin.

"You would. We'll figure something out. Hey, I know, we can watch _Van Helsing_. That one never fails to put me to sleep."

Tim chuckled and nodded before his expression quickly sobered. "As long as we don't get a case."

"Maybe we'll get lucky."

"We can always hope… Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah, McGee?"

"Thanks."

"No problem. That's what partners are for, right?"

Tim smiled, nodded, and turned back to his computer, looking much less tense. Tony turned to his own computer and started it up, smiling to himself and believing the nightmares would be kept at bay for both of them, at least for one night.

They weren't.

XXX

"Gear up. We've go a body at Quantico."

Tim automatically stood and grabbed his bag, surprised when he saw that it was already well past 0800. He had been so absorbed in a cold case he was studying that he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed since his talk with Tony. The senior agent caught his eye and shrugged. Maybe the case would be an easy one, and they'd be able to stick with their plans.

"Another dead Marine, Boss?" Tony asked, his tone suggested he already knew the answer but wanted to be sure.

"Dunno, DiNozzo. They can't tell. That's why they need us."

Tim and Tony exchanged looks. This was going to be a bad one.

"What happened?" asked Ziva.

"Patrol found the body at the edge of a patch of woods near one of the housing complexes. The base commander is checking for UAs and missing dependents."

Tim felt a twist in his stomach. If it was a kid that had been killed, this was going to be _really_ bad.

The team was silent for most o the trip, and when they arrived at Quantico the three younger agents moved to unpack the truck while Gibbs went to question the Commander. Soon Ducky and Palmer arrived with the M.E.'s van and the group was escorted to the site by no less than five armed Marines.

"Why the guard?" asked Tony.

"Your safety," one of the Marines replied, and Tony and Tim once again exchanged worried glances. Really _really_ bad.

Soon they arrived at the scene and when they took in the sight before them, they froze, incomprehension and then horror crossing their faces.

"Good Lord…"

Both Ziva and Tony swore, and Tim felt his stomach do a slow roll. _You will not get sick…you will not get sick…_ He had seen some horrible things on this job but this was definitely the worst he had ever experienced.

"Who…_what_ could have done this?" Palmer managed to ask.

"We're really hoping it's not a 'who'," the base Commander replied as he arrived with Gibbs close behind. "If there's a _person_ out there sick enough to do this…my Marines are very willing to shoot first and ask questions later."

Ducky was the first to approach the body, or what was _left_ of it. He crouched down next to the remains and began to study them, not touching anything. After what seemed like eternity but could only have been a couple of minutes, he turned to the group with a worried expression on his face.

"This has the outward appearance of an attack by a large carnivore, but there are some aspects of the…dismemberment that seem a bit too methodical. It is possible that a human caused some of the post-mortem damage, but, unless they had some sort of assistance, no person could have been responsible for all of it."

"So you're saying an animal killed…whoever this is and a _human_ scavenged the corpse?" the Commander asked.

Ducky winced. "Rather bluntly put, but yes. However, I would prefer to wait until I have examined the remains in autopsy before giving my final analysis." He gave Jimmy a pointed look and the young man blushed.

"Yes, Dr. Mallard. I'll…go get some more, uh, containers." He hurried off, accompanied by one of the Marines.

"Could the animal have been a dog?"

"It's possible, Jethro, but it would have to be one of the larger breeds or one with very powerful jaws."

The Commander turned to Gibbs. "We have a list of all the dogs on base. I can get that for you and have someone take one of your people around to see if any of them could have done this."

Flashing back to his first encounter with Jethro the dog, McGee shuddered. He knew this was just the type of task that he'd be assigned.

"I can do that," Ziva broke in before Gibbs could reply, her eyes on McGee. He gave her a weak smile and a grateful nod.

"Fine. I'll call animal control and see if there have been any other reports of animal attacks in the area. In the meantime we have a scene to process. Let's move."

The team spread out around the scene, which remained guarded by the Marines, rifles at the ready.

"Guess they're waiting for Cujo to reappear," muttered Tony as he started to sketch the scene. He glanced over at McGee and winced, obviously remembering the last time he had used that reference. "Sorry, Probie."

Tim just shook his head and started to photograph the evidence that Ziva marked. They all worked in silence, avoiding the area around the body as much as possible while Ducky and Palmer worked to document and then gather up the remains to package them for transport. Tim paused to photograph a lone sneaker and tried not to think about the fact that the owner's foot was still inside it, or that the presence of the shoe suggested they were looking for a dependent rather than a Marine.

A sudden commotion near the far edge of the woods, outside of the view of the scene briefly drew his attention. He could hear a woman screaming for "Danny" and cringed. It was possible they now had a name to go with the remains. Suddenly he felt a surge of anger. The boy's family would be experiencing something no one ever should: the violent and inexplicable loss of one of their own.

Tim stopped and took a few quick breaths to try and calm the feelings of rage boiling up inside him. He understood where this was coming from but that did not make it any easier. He bit his lip, hoping the pain would clear his head and get his mind back to the task at hand.

"Are you alright, McGee?"

He jumped slightly and turned to his teammate. "I'm fine, Ziva."

She cocked her head and studied him, and soon he felt himself blushing.

"I'm _fine_, Ziva. I need to get back to work."

She stepped up to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If something was bothering you, you would tell me, yes? You would let me help you."

"I would." _If I thought you could._

She continued to study him for a few more moments. "I _want_ to help you, McGee. We all do."

Tim sighed. "I know. Just…I need to work this out on my own right now. OK?"

Finally she nodded. "Just know that we are here for you, McGee. No matter what."

"Thanks."

They both returned to their tasks and soon had moved out to the edges of the scene to search for more evidence. Tim noticed an impression in the ground and bent down to examine it. It was a footprint, likely from a dog, but larger than any McGee had ever seen. He raised his camera to snap a picture when something, some gut feeling, stopped him. He moved deeper into the woods in the direction the print had pointed and soon discovered another. Tim knew he was no tracker, but he remembered enough about the process to follow the trail. After a few yards, he noticed something strange about the tracks: the central pad of the track had started to elongate, and the impressions left by the toes had started to shrink. After another couple of yards, Tim froze when he saw the progression of tracks had ended in a perfectly formed, bare _human_ footprint.

_Oh crap…_

Tim blinked, wondering if he had in fact finally gone crazy. He re-traced his steps and followed the tracks again, reaching the same spot and the same, horrible conclusion: what had been responsible for the body was definitely _not_ a dog.

With a shaking hand, Tim pulled out his cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the prints. He knew he couldn't take pictures with his scene camera, as they would become part of evidence and there was no way in hell he wanted to explain these to the director.

Just as he had finished, he heard the crunch of leaves underfoot, followed by the sound of a twig snapping. He slowly lowered his hand to the butt of his weapon and turned in the direction of the sounds, struggling to slow his breathing and his hammering heartbeat.

A large figure stepped out from behind one of the trees and Tim sighed in relief. It was one of the Marines who had been guarding the clearing.

"Your boss is looking for you," the Marine said, his voice barely hinting at his annoyance.

"Thanks. I'm done here."

"Find anything?"

"Nothing useful."

"We better get you back to your team, then. Follow me."

The Marine headed back the way Tim had come and he meekly followed, avoiding the temptation to look at the prints again and thus draw attention to them.

He never noticed the pair of eyes watching him as he walked out of the forest.

TBC…

_Van Helsing_ **always** puts me to sleep...


	3. Chapter 2

Bad Moon Rising

Chapter 2

It was almost midnight when Gibbs finally sent the team home. They had spent most of the day at Quantico, interviewing the residents of the housing complex to determine if anyone had actually seen what had been responsible for the carnage they had dealt with that morning. Tim had seen the fear etched into the features of the women and children as news of the gruesome discovery spread like wildfire through the community. It had been a struggle to keep his own emotions in check as he worked his way through the list of residents, especially after what he had discovered in the woods. He had not shared his discovery with the team, deciding that he would take a better look at the pictures later to eliminate the possibility that they were a hoax.

Tony and Ziva had examined the canine population of the base, and although none presented as likely candidates for the destruction Ducky had observed in the remains, they dutifully collected samples for later comparison. During the autopsy, Ducky did find some hairs adhering to the collection of viscera, and Abby had identified the hairs as canine, although she could not determine the species based on microscopic examination. She had started the DNA tests, comparing those from the scene with the dogs on base, and the task had taken the rest of the day. She informed Gibbs that she should have the results by the end of the next day, a proclamation that had been met with thinly concealed anger at the delay.

Gibbs had interviewed the mother of Daniel Smythe, the missing teen who appeared to be their most likely candidate for the identity of the remains. Francine Smythe had informed Gibbs-between heart-breaking sobs-that her son had been visiting a friend in another neighborhood the night before and had not been in his room when she returned from her shift at the base hospital early that morning. Calls to the boy's friends had not revealed his whereabouts and when she had heard about the body, she had feared the worst. Abby was also running her DNA along with the samples from the body, and hoped to have those results the next day as well.

When they had finally returned to the Yard, Tim began a search of the boy's background. His father, Lieutenant Michael Smythe, was deployed in Iraq, and Tim had arranged a video conference with the man for the following day. Tim had searched both parents' financial records and backgrounds, but found nothing out of the ordinary that would lead to some sort of vendetta, if this was in fact a _human_ crime. Tim had his own ideas about just how human whatever had done this could have been, but he kept it to himself. It almost seemed like saying the word out loud would be giving in to insanity, and he wasn't ready to do that, not yet.

Tim was the last to leave, and when he stepped outside of the building, headed towards the parking lot, he realized just how quiet the area seemed, even for the late hour. He walked to his car and as he reached it, all of the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. He had the distinct and extremely unpleasant feeling of being watched. Praying that it was just paranoia or the after effects of everything he had seen that day, Tim scrambled to open the door of his car and jumped inside, slamming the door as soon as he was in the driver's seat. He jammed the key into the ignition, turned it, and breathed a sigh of relief when the powerful engine roared to life. He quickly backed out of his space and headed for the gate as fast as he could, not even daring to check his rearview mirror. After he passed through the gate and was on his way to the Beltway, he breathed a soft sigh of relief, and then chuckled ruefully at his own behavior.

_Get a grip, Tim. You're a long way from Quantico._

He drove the rest of the way home without incident. Once inside his apartment, he immediately bolted the door and put the security chair in place then checked the rest of the apartment for intruders. He made sure all of the windows were securely latched before finally returning to the work area where he sat down at his desk and booted up his computer system. He had emailed the pictures he'd taken at the scene from his phone to his home account, so he pulled those up and began to examine them. He was no expert on animal tracks, but the ones he had documented appeared to be genuine, albeit abnormally large. Even the human footprint was bigger than normal, size thirteen or larger, Tim guessed, even though he did not have a good scale for comparison.

Tim wasn't as good at determining other features from prints as Abby, but he was able to get a rough estimate of weight and stride. Whatever this thing was, it was _huge._

_There are no wolves in this area, but it might be a dog-wolf hybrid. Those get pretty big, right?_

Tim shook his head. He knew he was deluding himself. No matter how big it was, no dog could have left _all_ of those prints.

He picked up his cell phone and, after a moment's hesitation, put it back down. He was pretty damn sure he wouldn't get an answer, anyway.

Finally, after another hour of examining the photos, he shut down his computer and headed off to bed. He was exhausted, yet he knew the likelihood of a good night's sleep was slim, at best. Still, some sleep would be better than none…

After changing into sweat-pants and a t-shirt, Tim checked his alarm and crawled into bed. Much to his surprise, he felt the pull of exhaustion almost immediately, and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Tim awoke with a gasp, the images from his nightmares slowly fading, and turned to check the time. He was surprised to see it was only a couple of minutes before his alarm was set to go off, so he flopped back down on the bed and closed his eyes, hoping to push away the memories of his nightly torment. Suddenly his phone rang and he automatically reached for it.

"McGee."

"_Up and at 'em, Probie!"_

"Tony? What…what's going on?"

"_Got another body at Quantico. Gibbs is on a rampage, so you better be ready to meet me downstairs in five minutes."_

"Five min—_crap_."

"_Four minutes and fifty seconds, Tim. Why are you still talking to me?"_

"I'm not," he growled and ended the call before rising and stumbling to the bathroom. He rushed through his morning routine in record time and was headed out the door with less than a minute to spare. He did a quick check to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything and rushed down the stairs, reaching the front door just as Tony pulled up in one of the sedans.

"You were at work already? Again?" Tim asked as he climbed in the passenger's seat.

"Just barely." Tony glanced over at his partner before quickly guiding the sedan back into traffic. "Gibbs got the call at home this morning and called me on his way in. Told me to go get you and Ziva and meet him there."

"Is it…the same type of situation as last time?"

"It's a Marine. One of the guys out on patrol looking for the dog, or wolf, or whatever the hell it was."

"So why did they call us if it's another animal attack?" Tim asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

"They're not sure it was an animal this time."

"Crap."

"Exactly." Tony sighed. "Some psycho running around a Marine base? Guy's got a death wish."

Tim didn't reply. He was still thinking about what they had seen the day before. Tony didn't seem to notice and kept talking.

"I mean, obviously the guy's not thinking straight anyway. Who the hell would do…what that guy did to another human being? A _kid_, for God's sake! But then getting his jollies around a bunch of guys who'd like nothing more than to gut him and hang him out to dry? Gotta be _certified_ guano."

The realization that hit Tim was like a bucket of ice water. _Tony_ believed that what happened at the Marine base was unnatural, but he was clinging to a rational explanation like a drowning man to a life ring. Tim recognized what it would do to his friend if he voiced his own suspicions, and the need to remain silent on the matter became agonizingly clear.

"Probie? Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, Tony. You're right. The guy who did this, he's definitely a psycho."

Tony stared at him for a brief moment before turning his attention to the road ahead of them. After another minute of silence, he spoke, almost to himself.

"Just a psycho. We can deal with those."

Tim smiled, even though he had never felt less like doing so in a long time.

'Yeah, we can."

XXX

The three agents arrived at the base and, after a thorough search of their vehicle, they were allowed to pass through. The tension in the air was palpable, much worse than it had been on the previous day, and they made an extra effort not to antagonize any of the armed guards they met on their way to the scene. When they reached the area that had been cordoned off, the first thing they saw was Gibbs talking to a group of grim-faced and heavily armed Marines. He turned when he noticed their approach, and Tim saw a brief flash of something he rarely, if ever, had scene on the lead agent's face: uncertainty. The expression was immediately replaced with anger, although Tim suspected it was a cover for the man's rising concern.

"About damn time you got here."

"Sorry, Boss. Traffic was hell."

"I don't care. DiNozzo, shoot and sketch. David, bag and tag."

"On it, Boss."

"Yes Gibbs."

"McGee, finish taking statements. As soon as Ducky and Palmer get here, bring them to the scene."

"Yes, Boss."

Tim watched as the rest of his team followed the path into the thick stand of trees, swallowing his anxiety when they disappeared from view. He pulled out his notebook and turned to the leader of the platoon that surrounded him.

"Lieutenant Bishop, I'm Special Agent McGee. What can you tell me?"

"We were on patrol, keeping an eye out for the animal responsible for killing that kid. Sergeants Armstrong and DuChamp were checking this quadrant and his split to cover more ground." He inclined his head towards the young, dark-eyed man to his right. "DuChamp heard a distress call and responded. Some psycho had managed to get the drop on Armstrong -how, I don't know—and was…tearing him apart. DuChamp discharged his weapon but the bastard…well, I guess he got lucky. He took off towards the southwest and my men gave chase, but he managed to evade them."

Tim could see that the Lieutenant was furious: with his platoon, with himself, and with the man who had escaped. Underneath that fury was a shadow of grief that neither he nor the rest of his men had had time to acknowledge. Tim managed to pull his gaze away from the leader and glanced at the Marine who had seen the perpetrator. What he saw sent a shiver down his spine. The man was terrified, although desperately trying to hide it, and his eyes bore the haunted look that Tim knew all too well: he had seen it in his own reflection ever since the incident that had tormented his thoughts and his dreams.

"Uh, Lieutenant, would you mind if I spoke to Sergeant DuChamp? I need to get a detailed statement from the witness himself."

The platoon leader studied Tim for a few moments before nodding. "Alright. Sergeant, as soon as you're done…"

"Yes, sir. Understood."

The rest of the Marines marched off towards a stretch of woods to the south of the scene, and Tim turned his attention to the witness. Before Tim could ask a question, the man rushed to speak.

"I already told Lieutenant Bishop everything. You can take that as your statement."

"I'm sorry, but I need more detail. What else can you tell me? Did you get a good look at the man who did this?"

Tim saw a flicker of fear cross the Marine's face. "You won't believe me, Agent McGee."

"At this point, Sergeant, I am ready and willing to believe _anything_."

"You may be, but no one else is. They'll think I'm crazy, and I…I _know_ what I saw, and I'm pretty damn sure I'm not crazy…"

Tim lowered his voice. "What did this, what killed Armstrong…it wasn't a man, was it?"

DuChamp's eyes widened. "You…you know…" Tim nodded and DuChamp let out a strangled chuckle. "Maybe we're both crazy."

"I wish we were…"

DuChamp averted his eyes but began to speak in a low voice. "I grew up in the Bayou. I've heard and seen some strange things, but nothing that couldn't be explained. My grandfather used to tell stories…but I never believed him…I never expected to ever see…"

"Ever see what?"

"_Le loup garou._" He finally met Tim's gaze. "At first, what I saw looked like a dog, a huge, mangy dog, but then…it stood up on two legs, and looked at me. I…I ain't never seen a dog do that, and its eyes…for just a minute, they looked…human, but no human could ever look that…_evil._" He shuddered. "I shot at it and…nothing. It turned and ran, but before it took off I could have sworn…it _grinned_ at me." He looked up at the sky and let out a breath of humorless laughter. "Good thing the full moon is over for the month."

"So you believe—"

"—I _know_, Agent McGee. And I know I'm putting in for a transfer before the day is out. I ain't waiting around for another month for that _thing_ to come after me."

Tim nodded, but a thought struck him and he cleared his throat. "You said the eyes were human. Do you have any idea…?"

"No. No one I recognized. Do you really think you can do something about this?"

"No, _I_ can't…but I know someone who can."

DuChamp studied Tim and finally nodded. "I really hope so. Now, please…"

"I won't tell Lieutenant Bishop. I can't even tell my team, but I promise you, it'll be taken care of."

For the first time since Tim had arrived, he saw the Marine smile. "Thank you." Both men saw the Lieutenant heading their way, so Tim raised his voice and said, "Thank you Sergeant, you've been very helpful." DuChamp gave him a curt nod and turned to follow his platoon leader.

Tim closed his notebook and looked up to see the M.E.'s van finally arrive. He went to meet Ducky and Palmer, and guided them to the scene, only barely listening to Ducky gripe about Palmer's navigation skills. His mind was on how he could protect his team from the creature currently stalking Quantico: _le loup garou._

A werewolf.

TBC…

* * *

While the shapeshifter in the previous story was similar to those on Supernatural, the werewolves in this story are not (because it's not a SPN crossover) The lore for this particular monster is a mix of many things, plus a little of my own imagination ;)

I expect there will be 3 or 4 more chapters.


	4. Chapter 3

Bad Moon Rising

Chapter 3

Tim walked over to the MCRT truck, checking the area as he did so for witnesses, but for the moment he appeared to be completely alone. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, he climbed into the back of the truck before shutting the doors and reaching for his phone. He dialed the number from memory, as he had many times before, but this time he left a message when the number immediately rolled over to voicemail, as it always did.

"It's Tim…McGee. I really need to talk to you. There's something here you need to see." He thought a moment and decided to try something. "I have some pictures I need to send you, and I don't know if you can get see them on your phone or not, so could you send me a number or an email where I can send them? It's really important. Thanks." He ended the call and stared at the phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

Tim was about to open the door of the truck when his phone vibrated against his hip and he quickly pulled it out to check. It was a text message with a simple email address. Tim sighed in relief as he put the photos in a zip file and attached it to the message before sending it. He waited for some sort of response, but after a couple of minutes passed, he decided that he couldn't delay going to the scene any longer and put his phone away. He climbed out of the truck, checked to make sure he had something to explain his visit, and headed back to the scene.

He was within sight of the guards when his phone vibrated again and he pulled it out to check. It was another text message, but the only thing in it was a number: 2200. Before he could begin to decipher what it meant, he heard Gibbs calling his name, and automatically began walking toward his Boss's voice. Tim hoped he would receive some other sort of confirmation that help was coming, but for right now, it looked like he was on his own.

XXX

Tony snapped another picture of the evidence he was currently documenting and stole a glance at his partner. McGee had finally made it to the scene after interviewing the Marines that had witnessed the crime and after reporting what he had learned—which, admittedly, wasn't much—he had started to help his teammates process the scene without another word. Tony had noticed immediately that something was bothering the younger man, something other than the gory remains of a Marine spread out over the patch of forest in which they were working, but he had obviously been unwilling to share what it was with his teammates. Determined to find out what McGee had learned that had upset him, Tony sidled his way over to McGee and attempted to use a little levity to get the man to reveal his troubles.

"Man," he began, trying to maintain a joking tone to his voice, "we keep getting enough appetite-killing scenes like this and we'll all be as skinny as you, McThin."

McGee ignored him and crouched down to pick up another piece of tagged evidence which he carefully placed in a labeled bag.

Undeterred by the cold shoulder he was receiving, Tony continued. "I don't know about you, but I—."

"Drop it, Tony."

"Drop what?" He studied McGee for a moment. "What's going on in that freakishly giant brain of yours, Probie?"

"You want to know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking I'm tired of seeing decent people getting killed by a…psycho."

"Can't argue with that. What did those Marines tell you about the 'psycho' that did this?"

"You heard what I told Gibbs."

"You're still a bad liar, Tim, even if it's a lie of omission. You didn't tell him everything."

"I told him everything the platoon leader told me."

"And that's all you heard? You were gone for a long time. I can't believe you took that long to get so little information."

"I went to the truck for more equipment."

"That we didn't really need. What were you doing?"

"My job, Tony." The older man was slightly taken aback at McGee's tone, but before he could respond he heard Gibbs yell at him to get back to work.

"We're not done here, Probie," he said as he headed toward the other side of the scene. "You are going to tell me what's going on."

"I know as much as you do, Tony. Now you better get moving before Gibbs' mood gets worse."

Tony sighed. "I'm trying to help, Tim."

McGee didn't respond, but as Tony walked away, he though he heard Tim mutter, "_So am I."_

XXX

When they returned to the Yard and brought the new evidence to Abby, she informed them that she had made a positive ID on the first body, and it was the missing dependent. Gibbs swore softly and left the lab, telling them he was headed to MTAC, presumably to contact the boy's father. After he left, Abby explained to the remaining agents that she was still waiting on results from the dog DNA, but the mitochondrial DNA from the hairs indicated that it belonged to _Canis lupis_, a wolf.

"There aren't any wolves around Quantico, Abby."

"I know that, Tony. It must be a hybrid. It would have to have a wolf mother since the mito DNA profile says it's a wolf and the father's mito DNA wouldn't show up."

"There were not any wolf hybrids among the dogs we sampled."

"That's because they're not allowed on base, Ziva. It could have come in from the surrounding area."

"Great. More sampling. Tell you what, take McGee with you this time. I'm sure he'd appreciate the experience." He turned to give McGee an evil grin, but the younger agent had disappeared.

"Where did he go?"

"I do not know. Perhaps he thought of some information that he needed to search?"

"Is he OK?"

Ziva and Tony turned to Abby. "What do you mean?" Tony asked, although he had a pretty good idea.

"He hasn't been himself lately. Well, actually, he hasn't been himself since…"

"Since he was abducted," Ziva finished and Abby nodded.

"I mean, he used to share stuff with me, and now…he keeps _everything_ inside. I just wish he'd talk to me!"

"McGee…he went through something that was very traumatic, Abby. Perhaps he does not want to burden us with it as well."

"But that's what friends are for, right?"

"Friends protect each other, too. I believe that is what he is doing, protecting _us_. Maybe we should respect that. In the meantime, we make it known that we are willing to support his decision, and we will support him."

"But how can we do that if he won't let us in?"

"We will find a way. That is what friends are for, is it not?"

"I…guess."

"We better get going, Abbs."

"And I better get to work." She quickly gave the two agents each a hug. "Thanks, guys." She turned her attention to the newest batch of evidence and the two agents left her to her task.

Once they were in the elevator, Tony flipped the switch and turned to Ziva. "You really believe that? About McGee?"

"I believe that he is doing what _he_ thinks is best. Perhaps we should trust him."

"I hope you're right, Ziva."

"I hope so, too."

XXX

The rest of the day was spent on the normal tasks associated with a case, and well as helping to correlate the information from the search teams and security teams as they continued to try and find a possible suspect in the murder. By the end of the day Tim was exhausted, but he didn't dare complain around Gibbs, or anyone else for that matter. Tim had been hoping that the team would be given a reprieve and be allowed to leave early so he could try and contact Wade again, but the lead agent kept them there until well after 9 PM. Finally, when it became obvious that they weren't going to make any more progress that day, Gibbs dismissed them with a warning that they had better be in by six the next morning.

Tim waited until the others had left before heading to his car. Once inside, he tried to call Wade again, but the call went straight to voicemail. Tim rested his head against the steering wheel and sighed. He hoped he hadn't made an empty promise to Sergeant DuChamp, but at the moment there was nothing he could do about it. He finally started his car and headed home, hoping for at least a few hours of sleep uninterrupted by nightmares.

When he reached his apartment, he was surprised to find that the all the streetlights in the area were out. He wondered if it was a localized outage, but when he checked the light closest to his parking spot he saw that the bulb was broken. He felt a twist in his gut as he surveyed the damage but he tried to tell himself that it was probably just a bunch of punk kids practicing random acts of vandalism. He only wished he really believed that…

He was halfway between his car and the building when he heard a deep, rumbling growl and froze as his body refused to listen to his internal voice screaming _Run!_ He heard the sounds of footsteps and he slowly turned towards the sound. A hulking shadow separated itself from the rest of the darkness and he could see the outline of a large form, decidedly _not_ human, moving towards him at an alarming rate. Before he could move something grabbed him from behind and forced him to the ground just as the sound of gunfire, directly over his head, shattered the night. Over the sudden ringing in his ears he heard a guttural howl of pain and before he knew what was happening he was being dragged away from that horrible sound. He tried to break away, but the sound of a familiar voice stopped him cold.

"Stop fighting me and run, kid. _Now!_"

Operating on autopilot, he scrambled to his feet and did just that. His rescuer dragged him to a large vehicle and pushed him inside before crawling over him to get into the driver's seat. He reached across Tim and pulled the door shut just as something slammed into it, sending Tim crashing into the driver with a grunt of pain. The man gunned the engine and the truck surged forward, fishtailing wildly and sending Tim tumbling to floor where he lay wedged between the seat and the dash, his eyes pressed tightly shut. He heard another howl, this time of rage, which faded as the truck accelerated and left the emitter of that howl behind.

After several minutes had passed, and the movement of the truck no longer involved weaving back and forth, Tim managed to open his eyes. He looked up at the driver and shakily exhaled when he saw, in the wash from the rapidly flickering streetlights, a familiar pair of blue eyes looking back.

"Hey, Wade."

"Hey, yourself, kid. You OK?"

Tim chuckled weakly. "I've definitely been better." He carefully extracted himself from his cramped position in the wheel well and climbed up onto the seat before fastening his seatbelt. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"What in the hell _was_ that?"

Wade cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "I think you _know_ what that was."

"But…it's not a full moon!"

The older man chuckled. "Never ceases to amaze me how surprised folks are when they realize the sometimes Hollywood gets it _wrong_." He took in Tim's shocked expression and chuckled again before all traces of humor faded. "You're damn lucky I made it here on time, but now you have a problem."

"I didn't already?"

"That werewolf has your scent, and it won't stop coming after you until you're dead."

Tim felt the blood drain from his face and it took all of his effort not to give in to the nausea that burned in his throat.

"Why…why me?"

"Those pictures you took. It must have seen you take them. You got too close to the truth. It _knows_ you know, and now it wants to make sure you don't have a chance to spread that knowledge to the wrong people."

"People…like you."

"Exactly."

"So now what?"

"Right now we just have to put enough distance between Ol' Fuzzy and us, and then we have to keep moving so it can't latch onto your scent again until I'm ready to deal with it."

"_We're_ ready to deal with it."

Wade shook his head. "Killing a Were isn't like killing a Shifter. Silver bullets might slow it down a bit, and generally piss it off, but it takes a lot more to finish the job. You have to trap it, weaken it, and _then_ kill it. Too damn much risk for a civilian."

Tim felt a sudden surge of anger. "I'm _not_ a civilian. I'm a trained—"

"Your training never covered this, Tim."

"So, what, I'm just supposed to hide and let someone else deal with my problem?"

"Think of it as witness protection."

"No. I need to take care of this. I need to be a part of it. I'm tired of-"

"-being a punching bag for any supernatural freak that comes down the pike."

Tim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not exactly how I would have put it, but…how did you know?"

"Kid, I've _been_ there. I do know what it's like to be…a victim." He caught Tim's startled look. "It's like I told your boss: nobody takes this job for fun."

At the mention of Gibbs, Tim felt a rush of panic. "What about my team? Are they in danger, too?"

Wade seemed to consider the question before he sighed. "Not at the moment. The Were is locked on you for now, but if it gets a hint that your teammates are aware of it, or are trying to help you…yeah, they could be."

"So what do I do?" Tim could bear the idea that he was potentially putting his team, his _friends_, in jeopardy.

Wade sighed. "We need to trap this thing, and quickly. I know someone local who can get me the supplies, but…"

"How long will it take?"

"Maybe a week to prepare."

"A _week_? I can't…we're in the middle of a case…and I can't tell Gibbs because…"

"I know kid, I know. You're safe during the day, and you're probably safe at NCIS at night, but…"

"There's no way I can stay there until this is over."

"Probably not. But that's not the worst thing."

"It gets worse?"

"There's really only one way to get that werewolf into the trap in the first place."

Tim had a sudden sinking feeling that he already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

"So what do you need?"

"Bait."

TBC…


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tim and Wade returned to Tim's apartment an hour before dawn, giving him barely enough time to get ready for work before he had to make the drive to NCIS.

"Are you sure it's safe? It's not still going to be hanging around?" he asked as he climbed out of the truck, his less than comfortable bed for the previous night, and headed for the rear entrance to his building.

"Weres don't stay out this late…or early," Wade replied as he followed close behind.

"Nice to know they have a curfew," Tim muttered and opened the door. Both men still kept a careful eye out as they ascended the stairs to Tim's floor. Once they reached the apartment, they saw that the lock was undisturbed, so they cautiously stepped inside and looked around. The apartment was as Tim had left it and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

"You better get ready, and then pack for a few days. It's too risky to come back here for awhile." Wade leaned against the counter near the front door. "I'll keep watch, just in case. Here." He handed Tim a bottle. "Use this like soap, and it will deaden your scent a bit, make it harder for the Were to find you again in a crowd. Won't hide you completely, but it's better than nothing."

"Thanks."

Tim headed to his room and shut the door behind him before going to his closet and pulling out an old duffle bag he had used for camping trips with his Youth Rangers group. He selected an outfit for the day and then filled the bag with more than enough clothes for a week. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't take longer than that to deal with his "problem", but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Ten minutes later, clean, dressed and "de-scented", he returned to the living room with the duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He took one last look around his apartment, hoping he would actually see it again, and followed Wade out the door, locking it carefully behind him.

"We should have enough time to grab some coffee. You look like you need it."

Tim absently nodded. He had only managed a couple hours of sleep once Wade had driven them to another city and found a well lit place to park for the night. The older man had stayed awake to guard Tim while he slept, for which Tim was extremely grateful, even though sleep had eluded him for most of the night.

"So what's the plan?" Tim asked as they headed for his car.

"You'll be safe at work, as I said. Weres are human during the day, but they're still unlikely to attack or draw attention to themselves. Just don't go anywhere alone and you'll be fine."

"What about after work?"

"I'll find us some places to stay and prepare what we need. I'll do most of that while you're at work, and we can take turns keeping watch at night."

"And how do I keep the rest of the team from showing up at my apartment or making the Were think they're helping me? It's going to be keeping an eye on me while I'm at work, isn't it?"

"Probably. I've been thinking about that. I think you're going to have to tell Gibbs what's going on."

Tim let out a humorless bark of laughter. "That's breaking Rule Number 4." Wade shot him a quizzical look and Tim sighed. "'The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person - if you must. There is no third best,'" he recited wearily.

"And if he finds out you're keeping a secret, what then?"

Tim swore, and then a few seconds later let out a much longer string of expletives. They had reached his car and saw that all four tires had been slashed. Wade added a few choice words himself and squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"Come on, I'll take you in to work. We can't do anything about this now. I'll get it taken care of later." They retrieved Tim's backpack from the car and headed for Wade's truck. Suddenly Wade chuckled. "You weren't a truck driver in a previous life, were you?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"You've got a vocabulary that would put one to shame."

Tim blushed. "My father's in the Navy. He…I guess I learned a few things from him." A sudden sinking feeling hit him and he turned to the older man. "Is my family in danger, too?"

"They live around here?"

"No. My parents are in Florida and my sister is in London for a semester."

"Then I'd say they have nothing to worry about."

They reached the truck and Tim tossed his bags in the back seat of the extended cab before they both climbed in the front. Wade guided the vehicle out of the parking lot and headed for the Yard. After several minutes of silence, Tim brought up Gibbs' potential involvement once again.

"What do I tell him? Gibbs? He's going to want to help, and then the rest of the team…"

"Yeah, I know. You'll have to give him enough of the truth to satisfy him, but no more than is safe for him to know."

"Easier said than done."

"Yeah, that's the impression I got, too. I also got the impression that he's the only one who _could_ get the rest of the team to back off."

"Yeah, he is. He's not going to be happy about this at all."

"Tell him to join the damn club," Wade groused and Tim bit back a smile. "I think he'll see reason, though. Or a least I hope so."

Wade soon had to concentrate on navigating the large vehicle through traffic and lapsed into silence, broken occasionally by rather creative oaths directed at other drivers. Finally they reached the front gate and Tim climbed out.

"Call me when you're ready. Do NOT go outside after dark if you're here that late. Understood?"

"Got it."

Tim made it through security and rushed to elevator which took him to the bullpen. He made it to his desk with barely a minute to spare.

"Morning, McTardy."

"I'm not late, Tony." Tim was only slightly surprised to see Tony at his desk already. He had a suspicion that the senior agent had purposefully gotten there early in order to have time to quiz his teammate and was disappointed that Tim had ruined the opportunity.

"You're not early, either."

"Whatever." Tim started to check his email and realized that he hadn't had his cup of coffee. The discovery of his damaged car, plus heavier than normal traffic had delayed them enough that Wade had been unable to stop and get them both a much needed dose of caffeine.

_This is going to be a **really **long day…_

Ziva's arrival, and subsequent teasing by Tony for her tardiness, distracted him for a moment but the feeling of dread that he'd had since the previous night resurfaced when Gibbs entered the bullpen, his expression stormy.

"Gear up. We've got another dead Marine at Quantico."

"Another attack?" Tony asked and Tim realized he was holding his breath for the answer.

"No. Looks like a suicide." Gibbs headed back towards the elevator before turning back and giving them a 'you coming or what?' glare which caused the agents to scramble to join him.

"You think there's something in the water over there?" Tony asked as the doors closed and received a hard whack to the back of his head for his trouble. "Thanks, Boss."

"Do we have an ID?" asked Tim as he tried to distract himself from the events of the previous night.

"Sergeant Theodore DuChamp, the Marine who—"

"—witnessed the attack on Sergeant Armstrong," Ziva finished.

Tim suddenly felt as if the floor beneath him had vanished and barely managed to keep himself upright. He was very glad at that moment that he was the furthest back in the elevator as he leaned heavily against the rear wall of the small enclosed space.

"McGee? Are you alright?" Suddenly three pairs of eyes were fixed on him and he gave a brief nod.

"Fine. I'm…fine."

"Are you sure? You are white as a sheep."

"_Sheet_, Ziva," Tony automatically corrected and she gave him a dirty look.

"Are sheep not white as well?"

Tim bit back a nearly hysterical giggle as Gibbs smacked them both. He took a deep breath to regain control and finally met his Boss's gaze.

"I'm fine…no coffee this morning, sorry."

"Probie, that's the worst excuse I have ever—." Just then the doors opened. Gibbs shoved both of the other agents out of the elevator and hit the button to close the doors. As soon as they were alone he turned to Tim.

"What in the Hell is going on with you, McGee?"

"Boss, I-." Before he could answer the doors opened again to reveal Ziva and Tony, their arms crossed over their chests and staring at Gibbs defiantly. Tim took another deep breath and propelled himself out of the elevator. "I'm _fine_." He quickly pushed his way past his teammates and headed for the truck.

"McGee!"

He didn't dare ignore the warning in Gibbs' voice and stopped. Soon he and Gibbs were practically nose to nose and he averted his eyes, knowing he'd never win this particular staring contest. He felt the heat of Gibbs' glare but continued to avoid his gaze and finally Gibbs gave the others an order.

"DiNozzo, David. Take the truck. We'll meet you there."

"Yes, Boss." Tim could hear the worry in Tony's voice and he sent the man a silent apology before Ziva and Tony followed Gibbs' orders and disappeared from view. Gibbs turned and strode towards the lot where the sedans were parked and Tim, albeit reluctantly, followed him.

Once inside the vehicle, he turned to Tim.

"Tell me."

"Boss, I-." Gibbs slammed his fist against the steering wheel and Tim jumped.

"Now, McGee! Before I bench you."

"I…I called Wade, Boss." He saw Gibbs eyes widen in surprise and rushed to explain. "It started with the case two days ago. At the scene, I found something that…that made me think it was his sort of job." Anger immediately replaced surprise.

"And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"I wasn't _sure_, Boss. I didn't…I wanted to make sure. Yesterday, Sergeant DuChamp… he confirmed what I suspected, but—."

"You _still_ didn't tell me."

"I didn't think you'd believe me, but—." He winced when Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head.

"You should have told me, McGee. After what we saw…after what happened to you, I would have believed you. You should have _told_ me!"

Tim shook his head. "Trust me, its better I didn't."

"And so someone else _died_ because—"

"—_because if I had told you, it would have come after you, too!"_

Gibbs' shocked silence gave him enough time to explain.

"It…saw me take pictures of the evidence. It knew that I was onto it, and last night…if Wade hadn't showed up…" Tim fought to control himself as the memories of the attack came flooding back. "He told me it had caught my scent, and…it won't stop coming for me. I don't want it to come after you, or anyone else on the team, and if I kept you from knowing about it, or looking like you were helping me, then…you'd be safe. All of you."

Gibbs continued silence started to unnerve Tim, and just as he was about try and further justify his actions, Gibbs spoke.

"So what is it?"

"Boss, if I tell you, it might…you won't be able to…your actions, your questions…it's watching us already, and if it thinks you know about it…"

"I'll be on its hit list. I don't care, McGee. I need to know how to keep my team, _all_ of you, safe."

"You won't be able to kill it, Boss. It's not like Tony's movies. A silver bullet won't work on this one." Realizing what he let slip, Tim groaned and mentally head-slapped himself. "I shouldn't have said that!"

"A _silver bullet_? It's a…?"

Tim slumped in his seat and dropped his gaze. "Yeah."

Gibbs turned away from the younger man, his eyes fixed on the window in front of him.

"God…"

"You have to keep Tony and Ziva from thinking, or letting anyone at Quantico think they're thinking…it wasn't a human, or a dog that killed those people. Wade and I are going to take care of it. It will take a week to get ready, but—"

"No."

"Boss, I—."

"Let Wade take care of it. You're not putting yourself in any more danger, McGee."

"Too late for that, Boss. I told you, it already has my scent. The only way for me to stay safe is for us to kill it."

"How?"

"I don't know. Wade's taking care of that part. I'm just…I'm helping. I can't go home. I'm safe during the day, but at night…we're going to be working on taking care of the problem."

"A week?"

"Yeah."

"Is it safe for you to go to the scene now?"

"Probably not, but we can't tip our hand, Boss. Everything has to look normal."

Gibbs swore softly and started the sedan. "You stick with me, Tim. I don't want you out of my sight." He put the car in gear and headed for the gate.

"What about Tony and Ziva? Or Ducky and Palmer?"

"I'll handle them. You just keep your head down, and if there's any chance you're in immediate danger, you let me know. I don't care if it catches my scent, too. Understood?"

"Boss, I-."

"Is that _clear_, McGee?" Gibbs asked and sent him a look that was a mixture of anger, concern…and something Tim had rarely seen in the lead agent's eyes: fear. Tim briefly studied the man before giving a quiet response.

"Yes, Boss."

XXX

Gibbs and Tim arrived at the scene only a couple of minutes behind the MCRT truck since Gibbs had used all of his driving skills to make up their delay in leaving NCIS (and Tim knew if he had actually _had_ anything in his stomach it would have come back up). Gibbs ignored the questioning looks that Tony and Ziva sent his way and began giving orders for processing the scene, which they followed after only a slight hesitation.

The body of Sergeant DuChamp had been found in the middle of one of the athletic fields, his throat cut and, based on the angle and the presence of the knife still tightly gripped in his hand, the wound appeared to be self-inflicted. The only thing that belied that belief was the frozen expression of terror on the man's face. Gibbs and McGee interviewed the witnesses while Tony and Ziva worked the scene, and Gibbs gave the impression that he believed the platoon leader's theory that DuChamp, feeling responsible for Sergeant Armstrong's death, had succumbed to the guilt and had taken his own life. Ducky determined he had died a couple of hours before dawn, which meshed with the witness statements as to when the Marine had last been seen alive.

Tim avoided looking at the body as much as he possibly could, his own guilt nearly crushing him. He had a completely different theory as to what happened but kept it to himself, even when Tony had asked for his hypothesis. He suspected that the creature had gone after DuChamp, another witness to its existence, and DuChamp, when confronted by the creature, had realized what his fate would be and had taken the quicker if not less painful way out.

While they were finishing up, Gibbs received a call and stepped outside the scene to take it, although he still kept his eyes on his very troubled agent. When the call ended, he informed the team that a local farmer had killed a large feral dog that was likely responsible for the first attack. Unfortunately the farmer had burned the body of the animal so DNA confirmation or hair analysis would be impossible.

Just as they were about to leave, a second call informed them that another attack had taken place in a small community outside Quantico, but the victim had survived and had given the police a good description of the _man_ that had done it. Tim had to wonder if these had been genuine calls, or if Gibbs was doing his best to deflect attention from the team. In either case, he was grateful for Gibbs efforts to help keep the rest of the team safe.

Lack of sleep and caffeine were taking their toll, and by the time they had returned to NCIS Tim was ready to collapse. He worked his way through the computer searches, pausing only to listen to Abby's report when she came up to the bullpen to deliver it. She had not found any evidence that was similar between the two attacks, and since the damage done to the second body was much more methodical, with no evidence of it being an animal attack, she had concluded that the attacks were probably not related. She was distressed upon hearing the fate of the animal and consequently the evidence it might have provided, and ranted all the way back to the lab.

Tim ignored Tony's comments and speculation about the case, not wanting to give him any more ammunition for his theories. His mind was on what he would be doing for the rest of the week, and how to keep the rest of the team out of the loop concerning those activities. His nerves were stretched tighter than a drum, and he prayed that the day would end soon so he could get away and get started on solving the problem once and for all.

He was only tangentially aware of the questions Tony had been asking him all day, but finally something drew his attention and he looked up at the older man, only to see that Tony was filming him with the camera on his phone.

"Ah, there we go. Just checking to make sure those baby greens showed up on camera."

"What are you doing?" Tim said in a low voice, even though he knew the answer: Tony was 'checking' to make sure he wasn't another Shifter. He knew Tony was trying to get some sort of a reaction out of him, trying to get him to open up and reveal his problems, but Tim felt a sudden and uncontrollable surge of anger at the man's intrusion. Something within him snapped as Tony himself tried to explain.

"Hey, don't blame me, you haven't been yourself lately, and—."

"Do you think that's _funny_? _Do_ you?"

Tony's hopeful expression faltered as Tim rose from his chair and took a step towards him.

"Tim, I-."

"It's NOT funny, Tony! Why the hell can't you just LEAVE ME _ALONE?"_ He was practically shouting, and the rest of the floor suddenly became very quiet. The silence was almost immediately broken by a loud exclamation.

"Agent McGee!"

He looked up to see Vance staring down at him from the catwalk, his expression far from friendly.

"My office. _Now!_"

The anger vanished and, blushing with shame, Tim turned and headed up the stairs, unable to meet the shocked gazes of his co-workers. He followed Vance into his office and cast his gaze at the floor, waiting for the axe to fall.

Instead of the expected tirade he was met with silence. Finally he ventured a glance at the director and was surprised to see a look of concern rather than condemnation on his face.

"Agent McGee," he began, his tone much softer than he had used earlier. "When was the last time you had a vacation?"

"Sir?"

"A vacation, McGee. When was the last time you were away from NCIS for more than a week?"

"Six months ago," he answered and blushed. "I apologize, sir. That was flippant."

Vance sighed. "Yes, six months ago you were _taken_ from your job, your friends, and your family. That's part of the reason I called you in here. You never received counseling following that incident."

"I spoke to several psychiatrists, Director."

"To determine your mental state and fitness for duty, not to help you deal with what happened."

"No, sir."

"McGee…you are a good agent. The loss we felt when we believed you were gone was very real, and now I am concerned that we will experience that loss again, this time _for_ real."

"Sir, I—."

"I am aware of the expectations placed on you and your team by your team leader, this agency…and yourself. You haven't given yourself time to deal with the trauma."

"Being at work helped me deal with it, sir."

"But it's not enough. You need a break, Agent McGee, a _real_ break. You need time away from the stress that comes with this job. If you don't get it, I'm afraid that you will burn out, not only compromising your safety but the safety of your team."

"Sir, I would never-"

"—intentionally put your team in danger. Yes, I know. Sometimes, though, our intentions are what bring us the most grief." He opened a folder that had been sitting on the desk top and removed a piece of paper. "I am authorizing two weeks' leave for you, _paid_ leave, effective immediately. When you come back I expect you to meet with an agency psychiatrist to make sure it has been effective."

"But Director, we're in the middle of a case, I can't…I'm sorry, sir. I know I let my temper get out of hand…"

"It's not a punishment, Agent McGee. I'm doing what's best for you, _and_ for this agency. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Director."

"Good." He handed Tim the paper and sat down in his desk chair. "I will see you in two weeks, Agent McGee. Good luck, and get better."

"Yes, sir. I…I'll try."

"I know you will. Thank you, Agent McGee. You are dismissed."

Numbly, Tim nodded and left the office. He walked straight to the elevator and pressed the button, ignoring the looks he was getting from below. When the doors opened, he stepped inside and pulled out his phone before dialing a number with trembling fingers.

"Hey, it's Tim. Meet me out front ASAP. Thanks." He ended the call and put his phone away just as the doors re-opened. He went to his desk, made sure his gun was locked away in the top drawer, and then walked over to lead agent's desk to hand Gibbs the piece of paper Vance had given him. Gibbs scanned it silently and looked up at Tim.

"Director's orders, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and scrawled his signature across the bottom of the page before handing it back. Tim returned to his desk to grab his backpack, but his path was blocked by Tony as Ziva watched the two men with a worried expression on her face.

"Look, man, I'm sorry, I didn't-."

"It's OK, Tony. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." He gave Tony a faint smile as he realized this might be the last time he would see his partner. "I…I forgive you."

"McGee?"

He turned to Ziva. "It's OK. Just a…little vacation. I'll be fine. I need to get away for awhile."

"Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Guess I'll figure that out when I get there." He retrieved his backpack from under his desk. "Tell the rest of the team I said goodbye, OK?"

"We can do that, McGee, but—."

"I'll be fine. See you in two weeks." _I hope._ "Boss?"

He saw Gibbs silent reply. _I'll keep them safe, Tim._ "See you in two weeks, McGee. Good luck."

"Thanks, Boss. You…you, too."

He left the bullpen without looking back, but he knew what he would have seen if he had: confusion, worry, and concern. They were his friends, his second family, and he would do what he had to do to protect them. No matter what it cost.

When he reached the front gate, Wade was waiting for him. He climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and closed his eyes.

"Well?"

He just shook his head and leaned back in the seat before he replied.

"Let's get started."

Wade simply nodded and guided the truck away from the curb and into the westbound flow of traffic.

TBC…

* * *

Two more chapters to go.


	6. Chapter 5

Bad Moon Rising

Chapter 5

Gibbs sat and waited for the explosion that he knew would come after McGee left, and he wasn't disappointed. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Tony and Ziva's protests met his ears.

"Boss, you can't—"

"Gibbs, how could you—"

"HEY!"

They both fell silent and stared at him, their expressions a mix of outrage, worry, and expectation—their Boss would not allow such a transgression to befall one of his team. He would have a plan to fix this.

Gibbs rose from his chair and tilted his head toward the elevator before heading in that direction himself. Once all three of them were inside and the door had closed, he flipped the switch and waited.

"Boss, what in the hell happened. You let the Toothpick suspend McGee? For _that_?"

"He's not suspended, DiNozzo. He's on paid leave so he can get away from here and get his head on straight." Gibbs winced inwardly at the tone and phrasing he had used. This whole thing had him more rattled than he could ever show or admit. "He hasn't dealt with what happened to him, and he needs to."

"But we should be helping him, Gibbs. That is what he needs."

_Actually that's the last thing he needs…_ "DiNozzo's little stunt? Did _that_ help?"

Tony ducked his head in embarrassment and looked away. "Boss, I…I was just trying to get him to talk to me."

"McGee's never been one for talking about himself or what he's feeling. You know that, Tony."

"He has, Boss. He _has_ talked to me before."

"He has talked to me as well. Before…all of this happened."

Gibbs looked them both in the eye before focusing on DiNozzo. "McGee's not a probie anymore, Tony. It's not a problem you can guide him through, or any of us can. He has to figure it out for himself."

"And if he does not?"

"Do you two really have that little faith in him?"

They both looked suitably abashed, and Gibbs knew he had made his point. "He needs this time off for himself. You are not to try and contact him, or track him down. Is that clear?"

"But Gibbs-."

"Is. That. Clear?"

"Yes, Gibbs."

"But Boss, what about…" Tony caught Gibbs' glare and appeared to rethink his question. "What about Abby?"

"Let me worry about Abby. You two worry putting these cases to bed." Without going anywhere near Quantico, Gibbs thought.

"There's not a whole hell of a lot to go on, Boss."

"Then you work with what you've got. We've closed cases with less." He flipped the switch and the doors opened. "Now get to work, and remember what I said. Trust McGee to do what he needs to do."

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Yes, Boss."

"Now get going. I'm going to see Abby." _And what a fun conversation __**that**__ will be…_

Gibbs watched his agents return to their desks as the elevator doors closed and he slumped against the back wall. He didn't like this situation in the least, but he had to trust his agent. He really didn't have another choice.

XXX

Tim awoke with a start and blinked, surprised to find himself still in Wade's truck. He turned to look out the window and sat up, suddenly worried by the fact that he didn't recognize the area at all.

"Where are we?"

"Pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I was about ready to stop for the night."

"How long was I asleep?"

"About 5 hours. You looked like you needed it."

Tim yawned and rubbed his eyes. "What about you?"

"I'm good. Had a nap earlier while you were at work, and then I started getting together the stuff we're gonna need. We're far enough away from Quantico that we should be safe. At least for tonight." Wade slowed the truck down and made a turn onto a rough gravel road. Tim winced as he bounced in his seat every time the truck hit a pothole. He was glad he had woken up when he did, otherwise the road they were currently on would have been quite a rude awakening.

After what seemed like miles, Wade made another turn, this time onto an even rougher dirt road, but thankfully the trip was much shorter, and after only a couple of minutes of bone-jarring bumps, the truck stopped in front of what appeared to be a fire watchtower.

"Welcome to your safehouse." Wade climbed out of the truck and headed for the structure.

"That's safe?" It looked pretty rickety to Tim, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to the climb.

"Sturdier that it looks. Come on."

Tim grabed his duffle and followed Wade to the base of a wooden ladder. "Uh…"

"What's wrong?"

"I'm…not a fan of heights."

"Well lucky for you this is the only place like this we'll have to stay, and just for one night. Think you can handle that?"

"I guess…I've seen worse."

Wade patted him on the shoulder, took Tim's duffle and proceeded to climb the ladder up to the trap door. Once he had deposited their bags, and had lit a lantern inside the building,Wade climbed back down.

"Come on, Tim, I'll be right behind you."

Tim nodded. He gritted his teeth and started to climb, gripping the ladder tightly as he slowly moved up it, one rung at a time.

_Good thing Tony's not here. He'd never let me hear the end of this…_

Tim winced. He wondered how the team was doing, and he sincerely hoped Gibbs had made them listen. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they decided to try and find him.

Tim finally made it to the top of the ladder and crawled through the trap door, collapsing as he made it safely into the room. He looked around and was surprised to find that while fairly bare, the interior was roomy and in much better shape than he had expected. There was a kerosene stove in one corner, and a table and two chairs in the opposite corner next to a bank of cabinets. A door in the far wall apparently led to the catwalk that surrounded the tower on all 4 sides, and he could see that there was enough floor space to roll out the two sleeping bags stacked against the last wall.

"Home sweet home," Wade said as he pulled himself through the trap door, pulled up the ladder and pulled the door shut.

"How'd you find this place?"

"Old army buddy's a ranger. He clued me in to this place and lets me use it from time to time. Sometimes he joins me and we talk about the good old days."

"Does he know what you do?"

"Nope, and I prefer to keep it that way. He knows that I'm a traveling man, going around doing odd jobs for people. He doesn't judge me for basically being a gypsy, though. He pretty accepting of everyone, not just me. A rare quality to find, let me tell you."

Wade unpacked the bag he had brought up and started to prepare a meal for the two of them, using the stove and a mess kit he had pulled from his bag, along with a couple of bags and cans of food and a small coffeepot.

Tim watched Wade work, but his mind was on their big task. Finally he asked Wade what they needed to do to prepare.

"We're going to have to set up a snare to catch it, pin it down it in a net that will weaken it to the point where it's vulnerable enough to stab it with specially prepared stakes. Then we'll have to burn the corpse."

"Sounds…lovely. How are you going to make all of this stuff? What do you use to make it?"

"The snare is made of rope intertwined with silver chain and the net is made of horsehair rope. I've got both of those already, so we just have to put the net together. The stakes are mountain ash, fire hardened and the tips are soaked in monkshood extract for at least 5 days. We can collect the wood for the stakes in the morning, as well as the monkshood."

"Monkshood? That's 'wolfsbane', isn't it?"

"Yeah. Something the movies actually did get right. Stuff's toxic to a Were, but only if it's concentrated and delivered using the mountain ash stakes."

"So…at least 5 days to make those."

"Yep. Longer is better, but we'll work with what we have. We should be ready for your fuzzy friend in a little less than a week. In the meantime, we've just got to keep ahead of it."

"So how…how are we going to get it to the trap?"

"We're going to let it catch your scent again, after we're ready, and lead it right into the snare." He caught Tim's expression and gave the younger man's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry kid. I know what I'm doing. This isn't my first rodeo."

"OK…"

Wade went back to work on their meal and soon set a plate full of beans and rice down in front of Tim. He looked at it with a slight grimace.

"I'm not all that hungry, Wade." He saw the older man's eyes narrow at the perceived insult and stammered an apology. "I…I'm s-sorry. It's not…this looks good, but I…"

"When's the last time you had a real meal, Tim?" Tim thought for a moment and Wade chuckled. "That's what I thought. This weeks not gonna be a cakewalk, kid. You've got to keep your strength up. Understood?"

"Yeah…I understand." He took an unenthusiastic bite of the meal and looked up at Wade in surprise. "Wow. This is good." Wade just smirked and filled his own plate before joining Tim at the table. They ate in companionable silence and after the meal was finished and Wade had supplied them both with coffee (no cream, but enough sugar to make it tolerable for Tim's taste), Tim asked the question he'd been wanting to ask since the previous night.

"Wade?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you get started in all of this?" A shadow of pain flickered across the man's face and Tim felt a familiar surge of guilt. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked…"

Wade remained silent for several minutes, his eyes holding the look of someone reliving long lost memories. Tim was about to try and cover his obvious gaff with a new topic when the older man finally spoke.

"Alec would have been just a couple of years older than you."

"Alec?"

"He…he and Lottie…I can't believe it's been that long."

Tim watched Wade struggle. This was a side he'd never seen and hadn't even suspected it existed. Finally Wade took a deep breath and met Tim's gaze.

"What do you know about _yee naaldlooshii_?"

"Uh, not…nothing, really."

"They're a type of _ánt'įįhnii_, a Navajo that follows the Witchery Way. Black magic, if you will. They're the ones who use their powers to transform into animals. You might have heard of them under another name: Skinwalkers."

"I think…I think I might have heard of those."

"They can attack people, or cause accidents, or make people sick using charms or something called 'corpse' powder. They can use it to kill, as well." He chuckled humorlessly when he saw Tim's expression. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction when I first heard about them."

"How did you…?"

"I grew up on the Navajo reservation in Arizona. My mother taught at the school in Window Rock, which I was also allowed to attend, and my father was in the military. I learned about the 'myths' and beliefs of the people there, the _Diné_, but I never took much stock in it." He shook his head at the memory. "As soon as I was eighteen, I joined the Marines, but I kept in touch with one of the girls I had dated in high school. Lottie Tsosie. Her parents weren't thrilled that she was involved with a _bilaganna _like me, and when we eloped they essentially disowned her. A few years later they were killed in an accident, and her grandfather, Ben Tsosie, allowed her back into his life. He even learned to accept _me._"

"What happened…to Lottie?"

"After our son, Alec, was born, Ben wanted her to stay with him on the reservation rather than in military housing while I was deployed. He knew it wasn't easy on her…people weren't as accepting back then…and I agreed." Wade's expression darkened. "When I finished my last deployment I headed straight for the reservation. I hadn't heard anything from Lottie for a couple of weeks…but when I got there, and I stopped at the trading post where she worked, no one would talk about her, and I knew…the Navajo people don't like to speak of the dead." A pained look crossed his face. "I went to her grandfather's Hogan, but it was empty. Finally I found him and he…told me that the _yee naaldlooshii _had…had taken them away. Of course I didn't believe it. I demanded to know what had happened, and that's when Ben decided to show me what _he_ had always known, and what you and I both know now."

"This stuff is real."

"Yeah. Ben had been tracking this particular skinwalker and he took me with him on the hunt. He gave me bullets dipped in white ash to use on it. I remember telling him that hollow points were just fine for me…big mistake. When I tried to shoot it, my gun jammed. I finally managed to get a shot off and…nothing. Ben wound up firing the fatal round, and it…the skin it had been wearing, it just fell away, turned to ash as I watched."

"Damn…"

"After that I asked Ben to tell me everything he knew about these creatures. Turns out they weren't the only things he had dealt with and soon I was helping him whenever one showed up. Unfortunately I wasn't as subtle as I could have been and one managed to infect me with corpse powder, leaving me vulnerable to _chindi_, 'ghost sickness'. Ben saved me, but it cost him…more than I could ever repay. When he died…I set out on my own, and I've been at it ever since, learning as I went."

"Wade, I…I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, Tim. We all have events that shape who we are. Some of them are a lot let pleasant than others, but…I think of the people I've been able to save, and…I think Lottie and Alec…they'd understand all of the things I've done since I lost them."

Tim slowly nodded. He wondered if his team would understand what he was doing, and why he was doing it…and he decided they would.

XXX

_***one week later***_

Tim stood in the clearing and watched as the flames slowly engulfed the body of his tormentor. The end, when it had come, had almost seemed anti-climatic. They had spent that week making their preparations for the endgame, all while almost constantly on the move. Several times during the chase, Tim had seriously wondered if he would make it out alive, especially when he had heard the howls of their pursuer closing in as he and Wade and made yet another narrow escape. To turn that around, and to actually draw the creature out, had been both thrilling and terrifying. However, once the trap was set and the monster that had been hunting them was caught, unable to escape, Tim had turned away and refused to watch it come to and end. All of the preparation, and a week of living nightmares, had finally been ended with a well placed stake through the dying beast's heart.

The flames had finally started to die down when Wade silently left the fire pit and stood next to him. Tim remained silent himself for several moments before letting out a shaky laugh.

"I can't believe it's over." Wade's chin dipped slightly in acknowledgement and Tim felt a surge of pity for the man. For him, it would never be over. Wade was, in probably the strangest sense of the word, committed to his job, his life. Tim knew now what that life entailed, and he wondered, if it had been him, would he have chosen the same path? He wasn't sure he knew the answer to that question.

"Ready to go home?"

"More then you can imagine," Tim said with a grin. He caught Wade's expression and sobered. "Thank you. For everything."

"No problem, kid. Now let's get the hell out of here."

They headed for the truck and when it came into view, Tim had to chuckle. It would be odd _not_ to be riding around in that monstrosity, but he'd really be glad to have his own car back.

Tim had his hand on the passenger door when the sound of a twig snapping a few yards away caused him to freeze as a very familiar feeling coursed through him. Suddenly he heard Wade's panicked voice.

"_GET IN THE TRUCK!"_

Before he could respond, something came hurtling at him out of the darkness. Instinctively he threw up an arm to protect himself and overbalanced. As he started to fall, he was hit by a tremendous force, and a sudden searing, crushing sensation engulfed his arm, sending a wave of agony through him. Unable to stop the pain, he did the only thing he could.

He screamed.

TBC…

* * *

The info on skinwalkers and Navajo beliefs concerning the dead was drawn from various sources.


	7. Epilogue

Bad Moon Rising

Epilogue

There was darkness all around him. He feared it… and at the same time believed that it might actually be better than seeing, and knowing, where he was.

He had the feeling that he should be dead. He remembered the monstrous shape rushing towards him, the sudden pain, and then the darkness had rushed up to greet him. He had been in that darkness, for how long, he didn't know, and he wondered if he would ever escape it.

Soon, however, the darkness changed. It began to lighten, the black giving way to grey, and then to a diffuse whiteness. He opened his eyes and blinked as he adjusted to the change, to the light that shined on him from somewhere nearby.

"Hey. You're awake."

He turned to the voice, familiar and strangely comforting, even though he associated it with the darkness that had been there before. He saw a pair of deep blue eyes staring back at him and was suddenly hit with the sensation of déjà vu. He had seen those eyes, looking at him out of the darkness, before. Somewhere…

He struggled to sit up, but a gentle hand restrained him.

"Don't move too much, kid. Just…try to relax."

"What…" His throat was sore and dry, and his voice sounded entirely unlike his own. "What happened?"

His caretaker put a cup to his lips and the liquid within soothed his parched throat. As he grew more aware, his vision became clearer and he studied the face of the man leaning over him. He felt a stab of fear when he saw the man's expression. He had seen the expression before, on the face of others, when they had suffered a terrible loss.

"I am so damn sorry, Tim." The man looked absolutely miserable as the incredible weight of his guilt was clear.

"Wade? What…"

"There were two of them."

Finally the last piece of the puzzle fell, horribly, into place.

"We only killed one…the other one, it…"

"Yeah."

Slowly Tim tried to raise his arm, but the bulky bandage weighed it down more than he could compensate against. He risked a look and saw the traces of blood seeping through.

"_Oh my God…"_

"I've _never _known them to hunt in pairs before, Tim. I swear to you, if I had known…"

"Did it…did it get you, too?"

"No. It…did what it wanted to do to you, I think, and when it came after me I managed to drive it off. I grabbed you and got the hell out of there before it could come back."

Tim let his head fall back against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that this was all just another nightmare. He opened his eyes again…and nothing had changed.

"I don't…I don't suppose the movies were wrong about this, too."

Wade sadly shook his head. "No. Unfortunately, they got this part right."

Tim squeezed his eyes shut again as he tried, in vain, to keep the tears from escaping.

"So I guess I've got a week left…That will give you time to…prepare what you need."

Wade was strangely silent, and finally Tim opened his eyes and looked at the other man, which prompted him to speak.

"No. It…I don't have to do that. Not yet."

"What do you mean?"

"There's another way to deal with this."

"Oh. Something quicker? I'm ready. Please, put me out of my mis—"

"No, Tim."

Tim felt a hot rush of anger. "Yes! I don't…if what I think is going to happen, _will_ happen, then I don't…I don't want to be one of those…those _things_! I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"You don't have to."

Tim blinked in surprise. "What?"

"There is a way to control it. For…for those who haven't yet killed…there's a way to prevent them from becoming…like what we were hunting."

"How?"

"It's not pleasant, and it's not easy…but I've heard of a way to contain…the transformation."

"You mean…I won't become…"

"Not fully, no."

"So what…what do I have to do?"

"Right now, you need to heal. Nothing is going to happen to you, not yet. At least, not for about three weeks. Until then, we have time to get ready."

"What about…what about the other one? Won't it come after us again?"

"No. It knows what it did to you, and considering the fact that that's _all_ it did…it's not going to come after you again. It got its revenge, on both of us, and it's gone to ground."

"You said I could be…contained." Wade nodded and Tim thought about what that could mean. "I'm not going to be able to…I'm not going to get any of my old life back, am I?"

"I'm afraid not…but I've heard… rumors that there may be…there may be a cure."

Tim raised his head and looked at Wade. "A _cure_?"

"As I said: rumors. But you better believe I'm going to be looking at them. If there _is_ a cure, Tim, I _will_ find it. What happened to you is my fault, and if there's any way at all that I can fix it, I swear to you, I will."

"I…I believe you." Despite what had happened, Tim did know that Wade would do everything he could. He could only wonder if it would be enough.

Wade put a hand on Tim's forehead, and the comforting gesture only served to emphasize the empty feeling he was now experiencing.

"Get some sleep, kid."

He didn't answer and soon Wade turned out the light and left, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

They had eliminated a threat, it was true. The creature that had terrorized a community was no more. No one else would have to experience the loss that the monster had meted out with impunity .

On the other hand, what had _he_ lost?

As he lay in the darkness, he wondered if everyone he had left behind would understand.

_The end…_

* * *

The final part of this series, _Dance With the Devil_, is being written for the Hope in the Darkness Challenge and will be published soon.


End file.
